


Bottled It Up

by leftfoottrapped (miikkaa_xx)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 17:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2237016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miikkaa_xx/pseuds/leftfoottrapped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chen and Tao take care of Suho after a long day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bottled It Up

**Author's Note:**

> first fic out of two written for the [exorelieffund](http://exorelieffund.livejournal.com/); for [Horramata](https://twitter.com/horramata).
> 
>  **warnings:** threesome (M/M/M); daddy kink, spitroasting, slight bondage, d/s undertones, unbeta'd.

-

Jongdae sits him down at the kitchen table and teaches him. ‘It’s in the shoulders,’ he starts, ‘whether they’re hunched or not.’ He draws up his own and keeps talking, ‘and also look at the eyebrows – is he pulling them together or not?’ Next is the tone of voice. ‘A little absent, maybe breathless.’ Zitao sits there stunned as Jongdae imitates all that he’s saying and paints the perfect picture of a stressed out Junmyeon who’s just come home.

Of course Jongdae would know. Him and Junmyeon have been together for three years before Zitao even stepped into the picture. Zitao fingers the necklace he’s wearing, courtesy of Junmyeon, and nods, showing he’s listening.

‘That’s all there really is to it,’ says Jongdae after a moment’s pause. ‘When he kisses you, you should know. Whether he’s all there or not.’

‘What about afterwards?’ Zitao lets go of the necklace and splays his fingers across the table, feeling the wood steady his nerves, because something about Jongdae still keeps him off-balance at times. ‘What do you do when he’s stressed to relax him?’

‘Talking usually helps.’ Jongdae props his chin on his hand. ‘I’m shit at cooking, so I order out. C’mon, Taozi, you know all this – you’ve been with us for half a year now.’

Zitao pauses, trying not to look at Jongdae, with his sharp cheeks and even sharper eyes. ‘I meant... when… I know what to do when _you_ get stressed.’

The memory is still clear – starting from Junmyeon’s innocuous text of, ‘will you go over to Jongdae’s apartment after your shift?’ and finding Jongdae with a shimmer of anger and frustration all around him. Turns out all Jongdae needed was to… exercise some control, according to Junmyeon when he came over later with dinner.  Control in the form of handcuffing Zitao to the bed and riding him until he was begging to come.

‘Oh. That.’ Jongdae blinks and looks away for a moment. It makes the light hit his cheekbone differently, slide the shadow to obscure his eyes, before he looks back at Zitao. ‘Usually it’s only me who deals with Junmyeon when he’s stressed in bed, isn’t it?’

They’re always polite about it – Junmyeon and Jongdae both. Jongdae making promises to another meet-up some other time, and Junmyeon showering his face in kisses, holding his fingers and telling him that _tomorrow, let_ _’s try to get lunch, okay, Taozi?_ And Zitao finds himself shuffled to the door and back to his own apartment before he even knows it.

He remembers asking Junmyeon about it just the other week when they had sat together for lunch, and the way Junmyeon’s face had gone uncertain under the sunlight. ‘Sometimes I become a mess, and I don’t want you to see me like that, Taozi.’

‘But Chenchen can?’ Zitao’s trying not to sound accusatory, but there’s a spike of jealousy somewhere in the back of his throat and he can’t _help_ it. He wants all the pieces of Junmyeon too, just like Jongdae.

‘Jongdae makes me _not_ a mess,’ replies Junmyeon, voice gentle and soft, his expression warm. ‘But if it bothers you, tell me.’

‘When _I_ _’m_ a mess, you take care of me,’ says Zitao, feeling the condensation of his drink beneath his hands, ice cold. ‘When Chenchen was a mess, you showed him to me. You remember that, right?’

‘You had so many hickeys, I thought he strangled you for a second.’ Junmyeon’s lips thin out in recollection before he’s back to that smile again, the one that eases Zitao’s nerves every time he sees it. Junmyeon nods. ‘Okay. Next time. Next time, you can see. I’ll tell Jongdae.’

Which brings him back here – across the table from Jongdae, who is watching him while he speaks, ‘but this time you’re here, right?’

‘Right,’ says Zitao with a confidence he’s not sure he quite feels but he’ll be damned if they kick him out now. He gets to see this – all the sides of Junmyeon, not just the ones that Junmyeon puts out in front, not just his authority and his kindness and his inclination for self-help books and how-to guides that populate the apartment along with his newly dry-cleaned suits and expensive accessories. He wants to see the Junmyeon that’s just a little bit more of a mess than he’ll ever let himself be in public – he wants to _know_.

He jumps in his seat when the buzzer rings, but Jongdae laughs as he stands up. ‘It’s just the food I ordered. We might as well eat if Junmyeon is going to be late.’

‘I could have made something,’ says Zitao, following Jongdae, who only tosses a glance back at him.

‘Next time, okay, Taozi?’ He says, before smiling, and Zitao feels the words knock back and forth in his skull. _Next time_. _Next time, next time, next time_.

‘Okay,’ replies Zitao, nerves easing now that he knows he doesn’t have to prove anything. Just has to follow Jongdae’s lead and he’ll be fine, he’s sure.

They eat with the TV playing in the background, Zitao fiddling with his phone in one hand as he absent mindedly munches on his rice, Jongdae beside him sending off text after text, and informing when Junmyeon will be home – ‘an hour’ then ‘half an hour’ then ‘half an hour _still_ , what the hell is he doing’.

They’ve cleaned up by the time the deadbolt on the front door flicks open. Zitao freezes as he dries his hands on the wash towel for just a moment, listening to the familiar creak of the hinges as the door opens and clicks shut, before he’s stepping out from the kitchen and looking at Junmyeon toeing off his shoes at the front step, suit jacket hanging off his one arm and a laptop bag slung around his shoulder.

It’s easy to see the tenseness – Zitao might be oblivious at times but he can read it now, how Junmyeon’s shoulders bunch up near his neck and the crease in his brow as he walks into the apartment, not seeing Zitao yet. He flicks his gaze back and Zitao watches as Junmyeon’s mouth curves up in a small smile, affection in his face. ‘Hello, Zitao.’

‘Hyung,’ says Zitao, going towards him and leaning down for a kiss. Jongdae’s right – it’s light and fluttering, barely making an impression. Junmyeon’s not all there. Not really. ‘Did you eat yet?’

‘Yes – late dinner with a client,’ replies Junmyeon, looking around. ‘Jongdae…’

‘In the bedroom,’ says Zitao, and sees how Junmyeon shifts, back straightening, gaze at the entrance of the hallway between kitchen and living room, tension thrumming just under his skin. Zitao touches him – slides the width of his palm over Junmyeon’s shoulder, engulfs it in a grip that is just firm enough to get Junmyeon’s attention. ‘I’m going to stay.’

Junmyeon nods, looking up at him, before he rises on his toes and kisses Zitao again, a little bit more firm, more pressure to this one. It’s still dry and chaste, but something like the old Junmyeon is coming back now. Just with the _thought_ of being taken care of by Jongdae and Zitao both. It has Zitao’s chest feeling warm as he takes Junmyeon’s hand and leads him down the hallway.

The master suite is not particularly big, but the bed at the centre accommodates two comfortable, and three if they’re pressed together.  Around the bed are the usual furnishings of dresser and mirror and bedside tables, lamps, bookshelves, closet. The place is coloured with dark wood and ice blue sheets and it’s calming, Zitao sees it now.

Jongdae is there, sitting on the end of the perfectly made bed, leaning back on his hands, watching them both. ‘You’re late.’

‘I’m sorry,’ says Junmyeon, going to him in three steps, cupping Jongdae’s cheeks and kissing him slowly, like he’s savouring this moment. Zitao can’t help but watch as something in Junmyeon loosens, Jongdae’s presence cutting the strings that are holding his shoulders tight. Jongdae rests his fingers lightly on Junmyeon’s hips, doesn’t reciprocate much except for the kiss where he opens up for Junmyeon pliant and warm.

Finally, Junmyeon pulls away, blinking fast and turning towards Zitao with a kind of urgency. ‘Taozi, come here.’

‘Go,’ says Jongdae.

Zitao leans down and lets Junmyeon kiss him deep and good, licking at the seams, mouthing careful and soft around each curve of Zitao’s lips before sliding his tongue to meet Zitao’s in a flush of heat and slickness. Zitao is helpless for it, curving his arms around Junmyeon’s waist and moaning into his mouth in appreciation.

With a wet sound, Junmyeon pulls away, and there’s a pinkness to his cheeks that looks much better than the distressed expression from earlier. ‘Strip, get on the bed and wait.’

Nodding, Zitao obeys. His eyes trail over the sight of Junmyeon also shedding his clothes – suit jacket and tie, button up in a hurried, practiced rush. Sock and dress pants, belt unbuckled but left alone as it’s all tossed in a pile on the floor next to the bedside table. Zitao kicks off his jeans and underwear and leaves it all there as well. Only Jongdae doesn’t move, seemingly enjoying the sight.

Well. His loss. If Junmyeon wanted to fuck him to feel control again, to feel less like anxious and stressed, the way Jongdae had needed it, then Zitao could provide. He kneels on the bed as told, hands on his knees, cock twitching in anticipation as Junmyeon sucks in a deep breath and then goes rifling through the closet for something.

 _That_ _’s_ when Jongdae deems to stand up, walking behind Junmyeon and trailing fingers of one hand steady and slow up his side. ‘Hyung.’ Junmyeon stills, waiting. ‘Show me what you’re getting.’ With a steadying breath, Junmyeon pulls out a familiar length of silk rope and Jongdae coos in approval. ‘Use it for what?’

‘To tie Taozi’s arms,’ Junmyeon replies. Zitao swallows at the thought, feels his body twitch in want of it already.

‘No,’ says Jongdae, pulling the tie away from Junmyeon. ‘This is going to be for you.’

‘Jongdae,’ says Junmyeon quietly, looking at him with an indiscernible expression. Maybe worry, or anxiousness, Zitao can’t tell.

‘You’re going to make Taozi into a mess, and you’re going to do it with your hands tied behind your back.’ Jongdae’s voice is clear and certain as he brings Junmyeon’s hands together at the small of his back, wrists criss-crossed as the tie loops around them both. Jongdae practiced that one on Zitao before, he remembers. The knot had been a pressure, but not uncomfortable, and he could still move his shoulders. It was more like someone’s grip at his wrists than an actual tie. It would suit Junmyeon – who wasn’t used to this, Zitao could tell. Wasn’t used to giving himself away, trust poured onto the other person in the room, vulnerable just for them.

So this is what Junmyeon was unsure about Zitao seeing – how Jongdae would break him down the same way they could both break Zitao down, make Zitao helpless and push him until he sees white.

‘Please,’ begs Zitao, once, a little breathless. Junmyeon looks at him, eyes a little wide and uncertain, before glancing back at Jongdae, who is finishing up his knot with a little flourish.

‘He’s begging already,’ says Jongdae, palms pressed to the jut of Junmyeon’s hips, mouth close to his ear. ‘Look at him already sitting there for you, waiting for you. Can you do it?’ There’s a beat and Zitao almost can’t stand it, just _wants_ already.

‘Yes,’ says Junmyeon, voice soft. He tests the knot, feeling the flexibility of it, how he could probably slip out of it if he needed to. Jongdae would never _truly_ limit Junmyeon, knows Zitao, especially not this early with Junmyeon still uncertain on his feet, balancing himself on the unsteady ground of these new power dynamics.

Jongdae steps away, admiring his handiwork, and watches as Junmyeon approaches the bed, eyes on Zitao, keeping Zitao’s gaze. ‘Come to the edge, Taozi. Kiss me.’

‘Yes,’ exhales Zitao, moving forward on his hands and knees, his fingers cupping Junmyeon’s beautiful cheekbones as he meets the other’s mouth, kissing him slow and wet. Junmyeon always _takes_ – in the gentlest ways, in sweeps of his tongue across Zitao’s bottom lip, tasting the take-out dinner, the lingering sweetness of desert, maybe even himself if he licks to the very back of Zitao’s mouth.

Greedily, Zitao curves both his hands around Junmyeon’s shoulders, drags him up onto the bed so he can be closer, can pour his moans down Junmyeon’s throat and show him he wants this, that he’ll still be the pliant warm thing Junmyeon wants him to be even if Jongdae has Junmyeon unsteady.

Junmyeon breaks the kiss first, his mouth and cheeks so gloriously pink as he kneels in front of Zitao, shoulders flexing as he tests the tie around his wrists with each breath, still not used to it, not yet. Zitao doesn’t want Junmyeon to hesitate, wants him to accept it as Zitao accepts the reign Junmyeon has over him.

‘Want to kiss you again, want to put my mouth on you,’ says Zitao quickly, fingers trailing long lines down Junmyeon’s pale torso, closer and closer to the half-hard cock, his gaze imploring as he catches Junmyeon’s gaze and tries to hold it. ‘Please? Please, daddy?’

Junmyeon’s breath hitches audibly and somewhere, Jongdae laughs under his breath, but Zitao can’t see him now so it doesn’t matter. Immediately, something steels in Junmyeon’s gaze, straightens his spine, lining his shoulders up firm and steady despite the bondage. ‘Do you deserve it, Taozi?’

‘No,’ answers Zitao honestly, ‘but I promise I’ll be good.’

Something softens in Junmyeon’s expression – ‘I know,’ – before it’s gone again, and Junmyeon is shuffling backwards as best he can, surprisingly well despite being off-balance, until he’s leaning against the headboard, legs spread for Zitao to crawl in-between. ‘Come here, then. Show me.’

Zitao goes, ready to kiss Junmyeon again, when Jongdae’s voice chimes in. ‘Don’t touch daddy below the waist, understand?’

Looking over his shoulder, all Zitao sees is Jongdae still fully-dressed, watching them both with those eyes that feel like they’re stripping Zitao to the bone. He looks back at Junmyeon, sees Junmyeon caught up in that gaze, and can’t blame him. Jongdae – even from the back of the room – has a presence that feels overwhelming at times.

‘Yes, Chenchen,’ he says, hands moving up from Junmyeon’s hips to his ribs, thumbing both of Junmyeon’s nipples at the same time and watching as Junmyeon’s lashes flutter when he gasps. Junmyeon’s shoulders tense again, like he wants to touch Zitao back, but the control here he has is limited and it’s exactly what Jongdae wants, realizes Zitao. He just wants to force Junmyeon to balance that line – authority over Zitao, submission under Jongdae.

‘Tease him until he’s begging,’ continues Jongdae, voice getting louder as he approaches them now. ‘Tease him until he’s asking his pretty baby boy if he can come.’

‘Jongdae,’ says Junmyeon, voice a little breathless, but Jongdae only smiles at him, warm and comforting, before he glances at Zitao to get to work.

Everything about the pale perfection that is Junmyeon’s body is begging to be kissed, to be touched, to be worshipped. Zitao loves the softness of it, the way Junmyeon isn’t carved out the way Zitao is, nor someone solid and unyielding the way Jongdae is – Junmyeon is unique unto his own, his body sharp but soft, the jut of his hips and slice of his collarbones belying the smooth softness of his arms, his stomach.

With an appreciative hum, Zitao kisses his way over Junmyeon’s jaw, nuzzling at his neck, listening to each of Junmyeon’s breaths, trying to keep time to it as he works his mouth down the column of his throat, nibbling at his collarbone. Junmyeon’s chest rises, his breath hitches, and Zitao hums again, his tongue leaving a wet, hot trail down Joonmyeon’s sternum before tipping his head to the side and licking around a nipple.

‘Ah,’ exhales Junmyeon, eyes half-lidded, pupils blooming dark. He looks gorgeous – slowly and carefully coming undone from Jongdae’s presence, Zitao’s mouth.

‘Good, Taozi,’ says Jongdae, his voice low, making the compliment slide down Zitao’s spine, warming right at the base. Zitao hums in reply, feeling Junmyeon’s nipple peak in between his mouth as the little jolts of arousal keep making Junmyeon’s body shiver and jerk. ‘You look good like this, daddy.’

Junmyeon only huffs, his voice caught up in a moan when Zitao moves to the other side, his tongue sweeping over the skin, leaving warm, wet trails that make goosebumps follow. He’s slowly relaxing, falling apart, just as Jongdae wanted, and Zitao wants to coo at him, how gorgeous he seems when he’s like this. Instead, Zitao focuses on over sensitizing Junmyeon, using his fingers now to tug and play with both nipples, wet and slick from his saliva. Immediately, Junmyeon keens, eyes flying open as he looks down at Zitao, breathing a little harsher now.

‘Feel good, daddy?’ asks Zitao, curious, tugs once more, and Junmyeon closes his eyes so his short lashes are flush with his pink cheeks, every part of him looking too wonderful for words. Vaguely, he wonders if he looks as good as Junmyeon does when he gives in, if this is what Junmyeon sees when he takes Zitao apart.

‘Keep going,’ encourages Jongdae. So Zitao does, mouth to Junmyeon’s collarbone, nibbling there as his fingers play with Junmyeon’s chest, pressing into the skin, thumbing his nipples with each gesture so all of Junmyeon’s breaths are punctuated with little moans. He’s fully hard now, his cock flushed and arced towards his navel, and Zitao’s mouth wants to swallow him down so bad but he can’t, he won’t, Jongdae said so.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jongdae finally pulling off his shirt, mussing his hair in the process. He’s bigger than Junmyeon – at least with sheer solidity of his muscle, but he still seems a little too small, too delicate for the sheer pressure he exudes. Either way, the rustle of cloth has Junmyeon eyes opening again, looking over at Jongdae, with his perfect pink mouth and flushed cheeks.

Stripping with efficiency, Jongdae leaves his clothes onto the ever-growing pile on the floor before turning back to the bed, Junmyeon shivering as Zitao keeps playing with his chest, making him keen out for more, for anything.

‘Jongdae-ah,’ he moans out when Zitao sucks a light mark on his neck, running his fingertips lightly around the areola, over and over again, just enough stimulation to keep Junmyeon on edge.

‘You’re so pretty,’ says Jongdae, voice warm and sincere. Zitao pulls away to see him kiss Junmyeon – and it’s nothing like how they kissed before. Junmyeon’s mouth falls open for him, lets himself be tasted and taken apart by Jongdae, who has a grip on Junmyeon’s chin, keeping his head still so he can fuck his tongue inside and take what he wants.

Involuntarily, Zitao drops his hips and grinds down against the sheets, trying to relieve the ache in his cock, adoring the sight of Junmyeon falling apart. Breaking the kiss, Jongdae looks over at Zitao and Zitao knows he’s been caught. He flushes with embarrassment, lets the red of shame ride up his skin and paint his cheeks.

‘This is for daddy, Taozi,’ drawls Jongdae, voice steel, making both Zitao and Junmyeon stiffen in anticipation. ‘You get one warning.’

‘Yes, Chenchen.’ Zitao swallows, lifting his hips. When he looks up, Junmyeon is watching him with glittering eyes and leaning down, kissing him deep and soft, like he’s trying to smooth over Jongdae’s words with his own affection. Zitao hums into it in appreciation, his hands rubbing over Junmyeon’s chest again, loving the little moan he can _feel_ when he tugs on Junmyeon’s nipples with forefinger and thumb, the skin so hot under his hold.

Zitao pulls away first when he feels Jongdae’s fingers on his spine, trailing upwards to his nape, tickling the short hairs there. ‘What do you think, daddy? What should we do to Taozi here?’

The offering for control is one Junmyeon latches onto. He takes a deep breath, blinking fast as if to clear his head from his arousal, the white haze that Zitao knows is hanging there, ready to engulf him. For now, Zitao arches, preens under Jongdae’s attention, displays himself like the gorgeous thing he knows he is.

‘Should give him the same treatment he gave me, of course,’ says Junmyeon. ‘So our pretty Taozi will learn.’

‘Yes,’ breathes out Zitao, anticipation ratcheting up his spine. He pushes back onto his knees, ready, and watches as Junmyeon sucks in breath after breath, swallowing to wet his dry mouth, before he’s looking at Jongdae, waiting. Oh. Junmyeon was getting better at this.

Jongdae notices too, his hand scratching idly along Zitao’s neck as he cocks his head in apparent contemplation. ‘Good. Zitao, help daddy out, won’t you? Want you both to switch places.’

‘Yes,’ agree Junmyeon and Zitao at the same time, and it makes Junmyeon blink and flush, flicking his gaze over at Zitao who avoids the look. Doesn’t want to break the spell yet, doesn’t want Junmyeon to come out of the white haze of his submission. He kisses Junmyeon instead, wet and frantic, trying to show how desperate he is, how keyed up, as he grips Junmyeon’s shoulders and manhandles him over as gently as he can. It’s easy – Junmyeon is nothing to Zitao’s own physique – and the difference only shoots another bolt of _want_ into Zitao. How Junmyeon can be just a voice, just a face, and still bring Zitao to his knees.

Kneeling in the middle of the bed, wrists behind his back, mouth and nipples rosy pink from the work Zitao has done, Junmyeon looks _breathtaking_. Zitao collapses against the headboard, thighs opening automatically, helpless and weak for them to take what they want.

Junmyeon is watching him, taking in the sight of Zitao with his hard, leaking cock, and he tips forward, just a little, like he’s going to take Zitao into his mouth. Involuntarily, Zitao moans and hears Jongdae laugh softly in reply. Speaking of… he opens his eyes, seeing Jongdae kneel on the bed behind Junmyeon, his eyes half-lidded, lashes casting shadows over his cheeks as contemplates Junmyeon’s spine, shoulder blades, neck, tracing his fingers upwards so light that Junmyeon straightens up almost unperceptively, sucking in a breath.

‘I want to fuck you, daddy,’ he croons, voice so low and musical. ‘Slide right into you while you tease our Taozi.’

Junmyeon shuts his eyes, mouth pressed in a line. ‘Jongdae,’ he manages.

‘Want to see you wreck your baby boy,’ he continues, unperturbed, hands ghosting to Junmyeon’s front, sliding up his ribs to his chest, passing those over sensitive nipples with a light tug, enough to have Junmyeon arching. ‘Put your mouth on him, get him to cry, while I use you up from behind.’

‘Please,’ begs Zitao, voice cracking in desperation. ‘Daddy, _please_.’

‘Already asking for you,’ says Jongdae, ‘you’ll answer him, won’t you? Go on, answer your boy.’

Swallowing audibly, Junmyeon exhales shakily and opens his eyes, looking at Zitao, and Zitao only spreads his legs further, framing his cock with his hands on the inside of his thighs, ready to hold himself open for Junmyeon if Junmyeon asks.

‘Yes,’ says Junmyeon finally. It’s enough. Jongdae’s hand is on the back of Junmyeon’s neck, and Zitao knows exactly what it feels like – just a light pressure, just _enough_ of a command, for Junmyeon to obey and tip forward, his knees spreading out underneath him to keep balance as he rests his cheek on the inside of Zitao’s thigh. His breath ghosts hotly over Zitao’s leaking cock, and Zitao whines softly from the back of his throat, wanting it more than anything.

‘Do you know how beautiful you look, daddy?’ says Jongdae, scratching his nails lightly down the arc of Junmyeon’s spine, stopping at the dip of his ass, watching him with those eyes that makes Zitao feel flayed open, glad that the attention isn’t focused solely on him this time. ‘Just for us, daddy – you look like this _just_ for _us_.’ He punctuates the statement by sliding his fingers between Junmyeon’s ass, finding his hole and making Junmyeon gasp against Zitao’s skin.

‘Jongdae – ’ huffs out Junmyeon, a flush on his cheeks.

‘Do you know?’ asks Jongdae again, voice hard.

Zitao knows this – every question has an answer, and it’s wonderful seeing Junmyeon slowly understand what it is that Jongdae wants from him, what give and take they need.

‘Yes,’ he says finally, closing his eyes.

‘Good,’ hums Jongdae, pleased. He already has a tube of lube in his hands, uncapping it deliberately slow so Junmyeon knows what it is that Jongdae is doing even if Junmyeon can’t see him at the moment. That much control Jongdae is willing to hand over. But oh – Zitao feels his breath catch at the thought of Junmyeon obeying without hesitation, no self-consciousness in his actions, only the need to please Jongdae, follow through with each demand with everything he has because he’s Junmyeon, he’d always do a good job.

For now, Zitao’s thoughts are erased as he feels the heat of Junmyeon’s tongue against the underside of his cock, mouthing wetly upwards, getting everything slick and sloppy when there are no hands to help him out. Hips jerking, Zitao tries his damnedest to keep himself still, knows this is just as much a test of self-control for himself as it is for Junmyeon.

Junmyeon’s mouth is open to take in the tip of Zitao’s cock when he gasps, eyes flying wide. Glancing over his shoulder, Zitao sees that Jongdae is precisely stretching Junmyeon – one finger, two, three.

Jongdae glances up, eyes on Zitao. ‘Don’t be eager now, Taozi. Let daddy take care of you. Won’t you, daddy?’

Sucking in a sharp breath, Junmyeon nods, ‘yes,’ before he’s swallowing down the crown of Zitao’s cock and Zitao’s skull almost slams into the headboard behind him with how good it fucking feels. Junmyeon’s mouth is warm and wet, so fucking soft, and Zitao is making whining noises already, little, ‘ah ah _ah_ ’ from the way Junmyeon is tickling his slit with his tongue.

It’s unbearable – the easy, practiced way Junmyeon takes Zitao’s cock. He’s uncaring about how messy it is with his saliva and precome everywhere, doesn’t think anything of the slick sounds his mouth makes every time he pulls off and slides down over the length, bobbing his head eagerly.

The soft friction has Zitao breathing fast, ‘daddy, daddy, _daddy_ ,’, wanting so badly for Junmyeon to tell him he can come even if this is much too fast. He’s been too keyed up this entire time – from the sight of Junmyeon with his wrists tied, his beautiful face, his wonderful submission.

Junmyeon pulls off at the increasingly desperate little begs of Zitao, looking up at him with that familiar look in his eye, all half-quirked red mouth and soft eyes. ‘Not yet, Taozi. You won’t come until I tell you, you know that.’

‘Yes, yes,’ babbles Zitao, fisting the sheets by his hips with his fingers, wanting the friction back on his cock already. Junmyeon doesn’t disappoint – kissing down the underside to Zitao’s sac and taking a ball in his mouth, sucking along the sensitive skin, tracing patterns with his tongue, each flick and suck firing the nerves in Zitao’s body, making his head turn white with how badly he wants to just rut into Junmyeon’s mouth and come but he can’t, he can’t –

Halfway down his cock, Junmyeon chokes, pulling off fast and crying out softly, brows bunched together and eyes shut and Zitao is terrified for a moment before he realizes it’s just Jongdae easing himself inside of Junmyeon, centimetre by centimetre, holding his hips in his hands and keeping him still and steady.

Immediately, Jongdae is kissing Junmyeon’s spine, light and warm, ‘you’re good, you’re so good,’ and Junmyeon is breathing fast, unused to being fucked, especially when he feels strung-out and vulnerable like this. ‘Jongdae-ah, _Jongdae_ – ’

‘So good,’ soothes Jongdae his voice so soft, his expression full of affection and pride, ‘you’re so gorgeous, daddy.’ He looks up at Zitao then, and Zitao nods, wants to reassure Jongdae that Junmyeon is just fine, that his body is just adjusting to being full like this, especially with his wrists tied so he’s unbalanced. Zitao is unable to touch, of course, he always is, but Junmyeon can handle it. Junmyeon always handles so much so wonderfully.

‘Don’t keep your baby boy waiting,’ says Jongdae, shifting his hips minutely, enough to have Junmyeon moaning quietly. ‘Weren’t you going to tease him?’

Again, that fishhook of control, as much as Jongdae will allow, and Junmyeon bites into it, lets it tug him above the roiling sea of his emotions and the nerve endings firing in his body. He leans forward again, engulfs Zitao’s cock into his mouth, taking him _deep_ with no hesitation, and Zitao moans aloud helpless for it.

‘Perfect,’ says Jongdae, ‘you’re fucking _perfect_.’ He pulls back and thrusts in at the last word, wants Junmyeon to know it, hear it, fucking _feel it_. Junmyeon moans around Zitao’s cock in his mouth, but doesn’t stop, hollows out his cheeks as he sucks, making Zitao pant helplessly.

It’s a push-pull, a wave of pleasure, how Junmyeon works Zitao with his mouth, how Jongdae fucks into Junmyeon, leaving Zitao white-knuckling the sheets as he tries not to move, not to touch, wanting to be gorgeous in his own way for Junmyeon, wanting to prove to Jongdae that he deserves to be here and watch this happen.

It’s so hot – seeing Junmyeon’s hands still tied together at the small of his back, the twitch of his fingers every time Jongdae fucks into him, how his shoulders flex with the want to touch Zitao as he sucks fierce and good over Zitao’s cock.

Zitao moans, the urge to come building at the base of his spine, and locks eyes with Jongdae, who is watching him, watching them both, how they’re both under his control for now. It’s those eyes again, the indomitable presence in the room, and Zitao knocks his head back, unable to take it as another frisson of heat slides down his spine, adding to the sinfully perfect circle of Junmyeon’s lips around his dick.

‘Daddy,’ he begs breathlessly, knowing he won’t get an answer, not when Jongdae is still fucking Junmyeon slow and rhythmic, letting Junmyeon fall apart on his own accord. ‘Want to come, _please_ let me come.’

Jongdae seems to fuck just a little bit harder at the sound of Zitao’s voice because Junmyeon pulls off with a long moan, eyes fluttering, everything about his expression bleary with lust and contentment, wanting to be here rather than anywhere else.

Zitao wants to kiss him too, wants to share what he feels, but just watching Junmyeon like this is enough, when Junmyeon is trying to find a way back through the white haze of his mind, trying to answer Zitao when all he can do is succumb to being used up on both ends – Zitao’s dick in his mouth and Jongdae fucking him so deep and good.

‘No,’ says Jongdae, voice clear, as if he knows why Junmyeon hasn’t said anything yet, and Zitao thinks he does. Jongdae is always so uncanny. ‘Say no.’

‘No,’ echoes out Junmyeon, obeying without hesitation. Zitao whines, his voice pitching high and breathless when Junmyeon resumes licking down his cock, so leaking and hard, has been for _ages now_ , and takes Zitao’s sac into his mouth again.

Each of Jongdae’s thrusts have Junmyeon pushing forward, just a little, and Zitao can _feel_ how Junmyeon’s moans vibrate as his mouth is opened up some more over Zitao’s skin, taking in as much as he can, wants to do as Jongdae asked, wants to be _good_ for it.

The pace is picking up now, Junmyeon’s back arched, his fingers flexing with need for something to hang onto, something to touch, as his cock drips long strings of precome onto the sheets between his legs. Jongdae is relentless – stills Junmyeon’s hips with his hands and fucks him deep enough that the sound of his balls slapping against Junmyeon’s thighs echo through the room.

The filthiness is only matched with Junmyeon’s sloppy wet mouth taking down Zitao’s again, almost reaching the root, and Zitao twists his fingers in the sheets, voice so broken and breathless, ready to cry out in frustration as his orgasms pulses at the base of his spine but he’s not allowed to let go yet, not _yet_.

Junmyeon moans loudly over Zitao’s cock when Jongdae shifts his legs, finds an angle and keeps pressing into there. Found Junmyeon’s sweet spot then, think Zitao hazily, as he sees Junmyeon’s shoulders relax completely now, his face a smoothed out, content expression as he mouths wet and hungry around the crown of Zitao’s dick, like this is exactly where he wants to be.

It’s perfect – everything about this is perfect. Zitao looks up at Jongdae, wants to tell Jongdae that right now, Junmyeon is the most gorgeous thing he has ever seen. Jongdae already knows, biting his bottom lip as he focuses on fucking Junmyeon hard and deep with precise thrusts, wants to drive Junmyeon into a boneless pile of submission and Junmyeon is already more than halfway there.

‘Chenchen,’ moans out Zitao instead, unable to keep the flood of emotions inside, but he can’t continue when Junmyeon is groaning around his dick as he swallows around him now, completely caught up in his head space, eyes half-lidded so his short lashes look so stark against his pink cheeks as he takes Zitao’s cock completely down his throat. ‘Oh fuck, fuck, _daddy, fuck_ – ’

‘Can you come untouched like this for us, daddy?’ asks Jongdae, his voice low and wrecked, one hand drifting from Junmyeon’s hip to where Junmyeon’s wrists are tied, tangling their fingers together. ‘Can you do it?’

Junmyeon swallows around Zitao’s dick once, twice, before pulling off with a breathless, ‘ _yes_ ,’ before he’s back to sucking Zitao into that glorious wet heat, so eager about it, wanting to give Zitao all the attention he can.

The answer has Jongdae pulling out his cock a little more than usual before he fucks back in, knowing the perfect angle, the perfect amount of force he needs, to make Junmyeon’s mind go blank from how many nerve endings are firing constantly, how good it fucking feels to be fucked while he takes Zitao so fucking deep into his mouth that Zitao’s voice breaks.

Zitao watches the white-knuckled grip Junmyeon’s fingers have on Jongdae’s as the orgasm builds within him. It’s coming fast, knows Zitao – Junmyeon is so gloriously strung-out, riding out the waves of obeying and of pleasing, knowing he’s done so good, that this is reward for being so fucking perfect thus far.

It doesn’t take long, and Zitao can count it down from the way he sees everything about Junmyeon’s body go slack, even the handhold, as the white ocean envelops him completely and he’s done. One, two, three – Jongdae fucks into him with precision and unrelenting ruthlessness – and Junmyeon is coming with a choked cry, pulling off Zitao’s cock to throw his head back, sightless eyes staring at the ceiling as his body pulls itself together before relaxing over and over, aftershocks rippling through his gorgeous frame until his cock has emptied itself out onto the sheets.

Weak now, Junmyeon falters and falls a little, leaning his head on the inside of Zitao’s thigh now as he tries to catch his breath, blinking blearily as his body keeps being used up from Jongdae’s thrusts from behind, little hiccupping moans escaping his lips – ‘ah ah ah’ – as he tries to figure out which way is right-side up again.

Zitao calls out for him, wants to help him, anchor him with his voice – ‘daddy, daddy, _please_ , I want to come, _please_ – ’

‘He can, your baby boy can,’ replies Jongdae, still fucking into Junmyeon, still using up that fluttering tightness of his ass to chase his own orgasm, seeing Junmyeon fall apart before him and letting it amp up his own arousal.

‘Come, pretty Taozi,’ hums Junmyeon softly, lifting his head and taking him down to the root again, hollowing his cheeks, and it’s too much – it’s too fucking much, the sight of Junmyeon coming untouched and his hot, soft mouth around his cock, and the friction that just kept building and building and _building_ –

‘Oh – daddy – fuck – ’ gasps Zitao before he comes hard into Junmyeon’s mouth, terrified for a moment that he’s choked him, even if he’s managed to keep his hips still, managed to not touch either himself or Junmyeon.

The filthy sounds of Junmyeon drinking Zitao’s load finally filters through to Zitao’s head, and he could almost get hard again right then and there at the sight of a perfectly sated Junmyeon, eyes closed and throat working to make sure he got it all, not spilled a single drop.

Finally, he pulls off, blinking so slow as his breath hitches with each of Jongdae’s thrusts from behind, ‘ah – good, Taozi – hah – so good,’ before he’s giving up on words again and losing himself to the feeling of his ass being opened up over and over again on Jongdae’s dick.

Jongdae hisses, grinding deep into Junmyeon’s hole, enough for Junmyeon to moan long and low, resting his forehead against Zitao’s thigh as he keeps getting fucked. ‘Next time, let Taozi come on your face,’ he manages to snarl out.

‘Fuck, Jongdae,’ moans Junmyeon in reply, eyes closed, ‘please, _please_ , Jongdae – ’

Zitao watches, entranced, as Jongdae draws his hand away from Junmyeon’s and holds Junmyeon’s hips again, stilling him before fucking into him as he should be fucked – rhythmic, deep, hard, balls slapping loud and filthy, the slicks sounds of sweat and lube, Junmyeon’s little moans, and Jongdae breathing hard as he finally, _finally_ , lets out a loud groan as he comes into Junmyeon’s ass.

His hips shiver and flex, pushing up against Junmyeon as each rope pumps into him, and Zitao can feel his cock give an interested twitch, knowing exactly how it feels like when Jongdae grinds out his orgasm, the warmth of come, how it’s sloppy and filthy and a perfect fucking mark of possession.

Junmyeon lets out a full body shiver as Jongdae pulls out slow and steady, careful not to hurt him. With the same gentility, he undoes the tie around Junmyeon’s wrists, smoothing his thumbs over the red marks left behind, leaning over to kiss them softly as he massages Junmyeon’s arms, makes sure the blood is still flowing.

Now that it’s over, Zitao can’t help it anymore, just cups Junmyeon’s cheeks and pulls him close, kisses him on the mouth, on the cheeks, neck, collarbone, wrapping his arms around Junmyeon’s waist and dragging him into his lap, despite Jongdae’s muffled protests from behind.

‘Ah, Taozi,’ hums Junmyeon softly, clearly exhausted. ‘Are you okay?’

Zitao doesn’t know how to answer, just chokes out a, ‘yes, hyung,’, before he’s burying his face in Junmyeon’s neck and holding him as close as he can, feeling the boneless satiation in Junmyeon’s body that’s the same in his own muscles.

‘You did so well,’ says Jongdae when he’s back with a washcloth, working it between Junmyeon’s legs and around his stomach. ‘You’re so fucking perfect, hyung.’

‘Yes,’ agrees Zitao breathlessly, unable to _say_ how perfect, how Junmyeon can be both – can rule over Zitao with just a glance, a gesture, a word, but also succumb so wonderfully and beautifully under Jongdae’s hand.

‘You feel good, hyung?’ asks Jongdae, once he tosses the washcloth away, sandwiching Junmyeon from behind, chest to Junmyeon’s back as Junmyeon burrows into Zitao’s warmth.

‘So good, thank you, Jongdae-ah, I – ’ Junmyeon’s voice cuts off as he looks behind at Jongdae, before Jongdae is kissing him softly and Junmyeon can only end with, ‘I love you so much.’

‘Love you too,’ hums Jongdae, nosing into Junmyeon’s hair, leaving soft kisses behind, as Junmyeon looks at Zitao, too relaxed to feel apprehensive and nervous about his performance now. It will come later, knows Zitao, but for now Junmyeon is lazy and relaxed and Zitao doesn’t want to change a single thing about it.

‘Thank you for staying,’ says Junmyeon eventually, almost like he’s in wonder of it.

‘Always,’ promises Zitao, because he knows now – all the sides of Junmyeon – and he never wants to leave them. Just makes him love Junmyeon even more than he did even though Zitao had been _sure_ his heart couldn’t manage that. ‘Thank you, hyung, thank you so much, love you so much,’ he blabbers on, hiding his face in Junmyeon’s neck again in case he sees how much Zitao’s eyes are shining.

‘Our baby Taozi,’ laughs Jongdae softly as Junmyeon presses gentle kisses to the line of Zitao’s jaw, comforting him.

‘I love you too, Taozi,’ replies Junmyeon into his ear. ‘But next time, I’ll have to take _you_ apart, won’t I?’

‘Yes, please,’ breathes out Zitao, pulling back to show the eagerness of his expression, the smile on his mouth and how much he wants Junmyeon no matter what side Junmyeon wants to show.

‘You’re both too much – I just finished and you want to go again,’ complains Jongdae.

‘Chenchen can just sit and watch,’ says Zitao sweetly, to which Jongdae appears at Junmyeon’s shoulder wearing an unimpressed expression that Zitao kisses without much thought, just warmth and appreciation.

‘Want a nap first, please,’ confesses Junmyeon, seemingly embarrassed by the request, to which Jongdae only laughs again, pulling him away from Zitao’s arms to lay him down against the sheets.

Zitao follows, curling around Junmyeon’s smaller frame as of habit, knowing Jongdae will drape himself along Junmyeon’s back from the other side now, throwing an arm around Junmyeon’s waist all casually possessive.

For now, Zitao reaches out and Junmyeon catches his hand, tangles their fingers together, holds on like he never wants Zitao to go now. Relief washes over him, and he squeezes Junmyeon’s fingers in return, knowing this won’t be the only time he gets to stay.

-

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading~!


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